


the difference between hunter and prey

by phantomscore



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert, Sensory Deprivation, Tatooine Slave Culture, Thief!Reader, boba tea doesn't talk in this one because i'm shit at dialogue, dubious consent since he has a hand around your throat and didn't ask if he could kiss you, vague sex scene between two npcs who super die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomscore/pseuds/phantomscore
Summary: You were Jabba’s sly, little tooka cat. A sharp-eyed pet who swiped from rival gangsters with a playful smile, but you should've never tried to hunt Fett when you knew you would've ended up as his quarry.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	the difference between hunter and prey

You were Jabba’s sly, little tooka cat. A sharp-eyed pet who swiped from rival gangsters with a playful smile.

You didn’t stop smiling.

You would’ve been another one of his dancing girls if not for your sticky paws. It didn’t mean you were better. In fact, his women kept you alive as much as you tried to help them. Their hustle had you in awe as they undulated their toned bodies in innovative ways to stave off execution. When those slobbering wolves hungered over soft flesh, you picked their pockets and shared the benefits. Never enough to leave when the Palace demanded the lion’s share, but a bit of spice, an audio-novel, a pretty fur kept spirits up.

Simply, you wore chains of a different sort. The type where you tugged a little to breathe in the sweltering heat of Tatooine’s desert air, where you played with the men and women in Hutt’s employ without inciting a jealous rage. Jabba encouraged the little games, even, to prove he had dominance over them.

His domesticated feline always in the shadows, nicking little toys. _What does it matter that she stole a measly credit chip worth barely a beer! Here I have plenty, take one._

_You will submit to my whims._

You collected trophies, a tradition of sorts:

This smuggler’s deck of cards because his golden dice seemed far too important to him. This old patron’s velvety, sapphire purse that she didn’t even register was missing. He’d rip that one from your fingers before you even had the chance to hide it. A bounty hunter’s blaster maneuvered right out of its weathered holster. They were dropped to the rancor for that slip in concentration. Purrfect. You didn’t like hands that roamed unnecessarily towards your friends.

Honestly, you never claimed to be a good girl. You were a smart one, though. You would never dance with Boba Fett if your master hadn’t insisted you taste the make of him. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy felt your eyes as he tracked a high-ranking enforcer to a new club. It was the intimacy between hunter and prey when he stalked them through crowded streets to their lover’s quarters. 

You wanted to watch him catch that beast with all the authority of his legacy, but contented yourself with olive-green, half-shadows, as he maneuvered towards the pair. A devouring that held his entire attention, colder than a sniper scope pointed at a child’s babysitter as they played with stuffed toys. Your body turned half away and hidden amongst the wooden pillars. 

The mark's beloved moaned with her body, her mouth, her hands, as the other's naked form pressed against her. A snippet of their story in those ‘pleases’ and ‘wait for mes’ slurred together between rolling hips. He would sense the slight inhale of breath in the polluted air when he placed a single round of fire between the mark’s many eyes. Their beloved didn't have to time to even scream the executed's name before she fell as well. 

You ran and he chased.

The lightest thumps of your footsteps couldn’t match against the predatory nature of his silence. If the twin suns blared down on you, you might’ve stood a chance, but in someone else’s territory, you wouldn’t risk your usual tactics. It would bring too much heat down on you. You know what Jabba would do to you if you dared to lose that badly to an outsider. 

A sharp tug as he caught you by the scruff of your shirt and thrusted you up against the wall. He had a gloved hand around your windpipe, stroking a thumb down the length of your neck. You’re boxed in by the strength of his body, a lethal combination of armor and muscle. If you could imagine his features, there was a quirk of a lip, a hint of smug pride.

The blood scent swirled metallic as you forced yourself to breathe through the pressure. A growl as he tightened his hold on your throat. 

Useful. 

He wouldn't set you loose without a price. 

You’re useful, but not useful enough to risk a reputation of disloyalty.

It would be your first instinct to say ‘I'll become anything for you’ to finish this game and for him to deem you a traitor. You squirmed as he lifted his hand, the leather hide of his gloved fingers dancing over your features and slowly blanketing the world in darkness. “Prove to me you’re worth switching sides,” you answered, licking your lips. “I can show you some real skill...” You gulped in his aroma, an earthy, foreign musk that left you envious of the planets he had seen. In your open palm, a retractable vibroblade maneuvered from his utility belt as an offering. There wasn’t enough pride in his psyche to leave you with a weapon to slide into the junctures of his armor. The leather stroked against your nerve endings as he presumably slid your chance at freedom away. 

There was significance to the next stretch of silence you needed to place if you didn’t want your neck twisted. If you switched positions, where you had him begging for sweet air, you’d suspect he’d prove dominance. A show of strength to prove himself better than a street stray. What silver-tongued words could you twist together to have him leave you be? 

How would he make you beg?

You felt the slight movement of his other hand once again and the slight clink of metal. You didn’t expect Fett’s rough mouth to cover your own in order to steal the last vestiges of your breath. A hunger in earnest as his teeth briefly bit against your lower lip and his tongue thrust its way between your teeth, forcing your jaw open so he may taste the shaking wreck of you. A painful whine entered your throat when he leaned his head back to press against your forehead.

He removed his warmth away from your frame and you studied that faceless green for the first time. You missed him like the sparkling constellations that littered the night sky before they were shrouded by profit. A flick and you’re shoved from him. 

You’re crumbled up on the floor, watching the bounty walker swagger away from you. A threaded Wookie scalp had been thrown haphazardly onto your lap.

The secret whispered onto the depths of your soul: 

_I won._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm thanking an armadillo for helping me indulge my bucket fetish.


End file.
